Once Bitten

At the age of five, young Francis was taken on an excursion into the crowded city accompanying his father on a wool sampling expedition. He was very excited to see the crowds and smell the foods, and be with the papa that he cherished so well.

During this outing little Francesco had been bitten by a mongrel dog, and although the nip was slight, and the wound quick healed, he cried all the way home, nursing his afflicted arm.

Over the days to follow the wound suppurated and the little child drew a fever. He took to bed ailing with the tepid inoculation of canine madness.

There was nought to be done. The town’s physician maintained that the boy could not be saved from this situation, and, with taking his fee for this expert consultation, he went on his way, leaving the boy to die a hapless death.

His little arm had blackened and Franco had now become unconscious. He could not take any food, nor feel the fatigue of his sickness. He had slumped into that place between worlds - half in, half out - betwixt earth and Heaven.

Pietro had said that he must go away, but in truth it was not his business that drew him away from his little boy - rather, his fear of what was to come led him swiftly out the door and back into his world - leaving the forlorn Pica alone with her dying son.

She did not mind this as one might think. Pica sought solitude in such times of extreme sadness. She could now have every moment left with little Francis to herself.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Red Eyes Fixed Upon Them

Francis bent down, patted the blackened head of the dead elephant, untied his cross from its crown and slipped it back on.

Meanwhile the imp had slid down the back of his new mount and was dry humping the man from behind.

This would never do thought Francis to himself. I cannot vacate now - but this situation is far beyond my expertise.

I do not perform such magic, he thought further, for it never ends well. There is simply no safe place to send twelve demons to, for us to be cleared of them. They are scoundrels and troublesome wherever they be.

Their red eyes fixed upon them. Two were standing on their rides and mimicking the gestures of Toby as he spoke.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

A Troubled Tobias

A troubled Tobias bethought humour might lift the moment. He pointed to his own stout frame and then idled up beside one of the bulbous creatures that was rocking side to side on the spot, agitated.

“Step back”, quietly spoke Francis, who pushed him aside - and taking his cross from his own neck planted it onto the crown of the elephant central to the tusks. The animal screamed, turned black as pit, and dropped to the ground.

Happleganger gasped, “What have you done! You have cost us irreplaceably!” He scowled a hellish scowl.

Francis noted that the imp was now upon the man’s shoulder making faces at him. Its wiry hands were plucking at the grey greasy hairs, provoking Happleganger, unconsciously, all the more.

Murmur and Tobias could see that this was not going well.


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Unholy Demons

Francesco looked upon the twelve wrinkled pygmies [elephants], seeing something that the others could not see - twelve dark characters were astride them - unholy demons, black and with spindle limbs and thin bodies, long fingers, ears and jaws - nakedly exposing themselves - their characters aggressive and lewd.

It was clear to him that they had dominance over the creatures and were the cause of their natures turning so murderously violent. It was not unusual for any animal to be partnered with a maleficent entity or nature spirit, usually benign - however these beings were astoundingly conscious of their evil and promoting idiocy with their wants and way.

He had not experienced an actual encounter with this variety before - in passing Francis had kept his distance, when one or two were to be found in mischief attracted to taverns, fights and the like.

Although he was not frightened, their ungodliness terrored him throughout. His party looked on wondering why Francis was taking so long, seemingly just standing there.

He pondered: If I loose them from the elephants, the elephants will surely die. Yet if I leave them be, the elephants will continue on as before.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Faerie Element

“I want you to teach them to dance”, he said most optimistically.

“Teach who?" asked Francis, who was still windswept by an inexplicable intuition.

“Are you bewildered my boy? I heard that you had talents with the animals and that is precisely why I enlisted you, entrusted you as I have done.”

“This I cannot do Sir - regardless of your generosity. I had been told you were wanting some peace to your train. Yay to this, but nay to dance.”

The proprietor had something of the gypsy about him. He had also a great faith in the powers of Francis and had all the while suspected the Faerie element to be within his nature.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Minatures

“I like to show animals of the smallest proportion” - explained Happleganger proudly.

He pointed to a box that was hooded with fabric, and with a theatrical flourish, lifted the tiny curtain flap to expose a cage with rabbits the size of mice within. Fully furred, the tiny creatures blinked as the light woke them. Tobias leaned forward with delight. Francis felt a shiver … it was as though another convergence had occurred - a dejavu in reserve just swept over his soul. Happleganger replaced the curtain and eyed them suspiciously.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Twelve Creatures

The twelve creatures were impressively adorned with embellished dressings and ornate crowns strung over their foreheads. Faux sapphires and emeralds glittered their girth with one single ruby encased within the beaten metal, forged to appear as flowers from the exotics, such as were not seen in the common forests of Italy. Amongst some orchids bridled were golden bells which musically chattered with their sway.

“These are a miniature breed,” hissed a voice from behind.

It was the owner of the show - entrepreneur and master of the improv - Henri Happleganger.

“A speciality from the East” he continued, softening his voice from the strained sarcasm he had greeted them with formerly.

The Brothers bowed cordially. They were used to meeting with stressed men of commerce with their impolite sufferances. There were scales, often observed - with the calmness of faith at one, and the rages of commerce at the other - and a man’s demeanour would speak well of which ruled his want, and world.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances